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From the Prairies. 



A BOOK OF VERSE. 



By MAUDE DeVERE KRAKE, 



CHICAGO. ILL.: 

Scroll Publishing and Literary Syndicate, 

1900. 



■TWO COPIES RECEIVE- 


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the two who have 


been my faithful friends, who 


have loved me unselfishly and constantly. 


this little volume is lovingly 


dedicated by their 


daughter. 



SECOND OQP^Httm./C, fpO€> 



TODAY. 

Today, dear heart, you can lift the load, 

Tomorrow may £nd it gone; 
You can travel the same rough, lonely road 

Until this day is done: 
You can pray the old unanswered prayer. 

And trust God's mighty power 
To give you strength for each new care, 

A rainbow with each shower. 

Keep back the tears for one more day. 

And quiet your aching heart. 
For the long, long moments will pass away, 

And the dragging hours depart. 
Just sing one more glad, merry song 

The while you need not fret; 
Forgive the one who did you wrong 

And the wrong this time forget. 

If the day's work tangles, then you need 
But laugh at your own mistakes. 

And hasten to do the kindly deed 
That comforts the heart which aches. 
5 



Be the burden heavy, as ne'er before. 
Rejoice in your strength to do 

The greater task, perhaps worth the more 
Because it is done by you. 

Just one more day, and it may be bright, 

Believe that it is, dear heart. 
For the day's work ever grows more light 

When from sad thoughts apart. 
A little song, and the moment's done; 

A prayer, and your task is blest; 
And one more day is lived, and gone 

With the crimson in the west. 



A NOCTURNE. 

To the old trees the night-wind is singing, is singing, 
Sweet wonderful songs of the lands o'er the sea. 

And to hear it the glad leaves are springing, are 
springing. 
And encoring softly with rustles of glee. 

Below them the tired sea's sleeping, is sleeping. 
With soft little tossings and murmurings low. 

The moon to the westward is creeping, is creeping. 
And dipped to the trees is its silvery bow. 



To the church tow'r the ivy is clinging, is dinging. 
While waiting and wondering, listening long. 

To hear the sweet bell in its ringing, its ringing. 
And sway to its rhythm and swing to its song. 



FAIR MAID DOROTHY. 

The robin sings his sweetest note 

For fair maid Dorothy; 
And almost breaks his little throat 

For (air maid Dorothy; 
For ah! my little love is fair. 
With heaven-blue eyes and sun-kissed hair, 
With step as light as breath of air. 

My fair maid Dorothy. 

The flowers bend down to ease the feet 

Of (air maid Dorothy; 
And deem that death itself is sweet 

For fair maid Dorothy; 
For oh! my little maid is (air, 
My love for her I would declare, 
She IS so sweet — I do not dare — 

My fair maid Dorothy. 

The summer zephyrs kiss the cheek 

Of fair maid Dorothy; 
And words of love to her they speak. 

To fair maid Dorothy; 



I would that I could be so bold; 
My secret Kas not yet been told; 
She knows it not — the story old — 
My fair maid Dorothy. 

Whisper it, zephyr, soft and low. 

To (air maid Dorothy; 
Tell It, O stream, as on you flow. 

To fair maid Dorothy; 
Sing It, glad robin, m song so sweet; 
Breathe it, rose petals, beneath her feet. 
Say that I love her, I entreat, 

To fair maid Dorothy. 



LILACS. 

Oh, fragrant purple lilacs, on a spring day long ago 

Dear baby hands plucked sweetness from the branches 
where you grow, 

A little maid's, whose eyes oft held a serious ques- 
tioning. 

As finding earth less fair than heaven was ever won- 
dering. 

Ah, yet I live in dreams that other day in sunny 

sprmg. 
When out among the lilacs sweet I heard the baby 

sing, 
And saw her coming down the path, her snowy 

gown heaped high 
With the flowers she was bringing me to share her 

lullaby. 

^--.^ 
I gathered both up in my arms, the loving little 

maid 
And the blossoms, and within the garden swing we 

gently swayed, 

10 



Till her heavy lashes drooped against a cheek as 
colorless 

As any sweet white rose in all of earth's fair wilder- 
ness. 

***** 

No more within the garden did the baby walk and 

sing, 
Nor again within the hammock did she sleep and 

lightly swing. 
And along the garden path the lilacs counted out 

the hours 
With drooping heads, and perfume prayers, and 

tears of falling flowers. 

Out there upon the hillside purple lilacs bend and nod 
Above a bit of marble and a blossom-covered sod. 
And the wayward summer breezes that had loved her 

well, I know, 
Just slip above her quietly and quite forget to blow. 



11 



ALPHA. 

On that strange morn I came as mortal here 

Earth's sounds of strife were muffled to my ear, 

And clouds like snow which fled from summer skies, 

Half hid the blinding azure from child-eyes. 

The chirping birds awoke to tender song 

By morn's caressing breezes borne along: 

Each leaf in the excited whispering 

Of one who hastens pleasant news to bring. 

Made known to its companions how its heart 

Went out to nature's new-created part; 

And every streamlet laughed in loving glee, 

And sang a lullaby most tenderly, 

While all the roses shed joy tears of dew 

For the small stranger in a country new. 

So came I, with no knowledge of the sin 

Not known without, but bound the world within. 

For Mother Nature seeks that foe to hide, 

And angels had not warned me — who beside? 



12 



OMEGA. 

When as a tired guest of earth I lie 

Within her arms for just a last goodby. 

Oh, may it be some balmy day in spring. 

Earth's prayer time, when all hearts faint matins smg; 

Some day when she so close to heaven seems 

That heaven bends closer yet, as if it deems 

To make the journey but a step m air, 

A moment only spent from here to there; 

When leaves are hushing plaintive cries of birds 

As if to have no pain of parting words: 

The river singing a soft hymn so sweet 

That I forget a life most incomplete, 

While incense breathing flowers lift a prayer 

That all my sins be quite forgotten there. 

Thus would I have earth wear a peaceful face. 

Thus would I £nd my new abiding place. 



13 



TO MOTHER MINE. 

I said to Cupid as I went into his sKop one day, 
And saw the rows and rows of valentines in his display, 
**I wish a queenly sweetheart; she must be a lady fair; 
And I'll have no golden tresses or brown or raven 

hair; 
Particular I am, sir, that her eyes be a gray-blue, 
For black and brown and violet and hazel will not do. 
Of these I've simply wearied, so Cupid, friend of 

mine. 
Give me the truest heart of all to be my valentine." 
And Cupid, clever fellow at his trade, gave me my 

choice 
Of hearts and ladies till my soul did honestly rejoice, 
And there I found my sweetheart true, my chosen 

valentine, 
If you will let your own sweet self be that, dear 

mother mine! 



14 



A DREAM. 

A troubling shadow creeps o'er me today, I cannot say 
What makes this coldness at my heart, my own. 

But that last night I dreamed that you were dead, 
and did so dread 
Your lying out there m the dark, alone. 

The wind wailed loud and low and loud again; the 
dropping ram, 
Kept up its beating, maddening monotone; 
Through sodden leaves, and low, wet vines I crept, 
while others slept. 
And found your grave; you were not then alone. 

You press warm, trembling lips to mine and say 'tis 
passed away 
The dream which gave today a grayer tone;' 
But, love, the visions of what-might-be bide, for had 
you died 
Then I, as well as you, were all alone. 



15 



AT TWILIGHT TIME, 

Oh, they're drifting down the River of Rest, 

Into the Bay of Sleep, 
A little maid in my arms close pressed. 
And the fair-haired laddie we tremble lest 

Will slip into the Deep, 

They passed the meadows of Story-land 

An hour or two ago. 
And then they glided hand m hand 
To Drowsy-town; caught in the sand; 

I rocked to let them go. 

They are floatmg gently away, away. 

From happy Land of Joy, 
From pretty flowers in felds of play 
Which they slowly left, for they longed to stay. 

Dear little girl and boy! 

I am the boatman; they have no fear 

To ask for another song, 
Tho' the price they pay is very dear. 
At least to the willmg gondolier, — 

A kiss both sweet and long. 
16 



A FAIRY SONG. 

We are elves of tKe nigKt 
With our wings so ligKt 
We travel o'er mount and sea. 

In the daytime we hide, 

Or on the clouds ride, 
For we're shy, as shy can be. 

When to rest goes the sun 
We fairy folk run. 
Chasing a lost little ray. 

Else creeping around 

'Mongst the shadows we're found 
Till it's dark enough to play. 

When the last ray has flown. 
And the daylight quite gone. 
We come from our hiding place, 

And spread our fine wings, 

Such beautiful things. 
And start on our nightly race. 

To the f rst little star, 
If it isn't too far, 
17 



And back to the eartK again. 

'Neath a leaf or a flower 

We rest by the hour 
If it's cloudy and threatening rain. 

When the moon is in sight. 
Though the paths not too light, 
We creep from each glen and bower, 

Rob a bee and then eat 

The honey so sweet. 
Or carry it back to a flower. 

Or we fly to the brook 

And take a long look 

At our wee, iine, shining wings; 

Pluck bluebells, perhaps, 

A new fashion in caps, 
For fairies are vain little things. 

When the east hints of light. 
We wing a slow flight. 
Back to each little glen. 

And slumber all day. 

Too tired to play 
Till the sun goes down again. 
18 



GOING LONG WITH DAD. 

I used to like to drive to town along the old hill 

road, 
For Dad would take me sometimes, and if he had a 

load 
Of corn or wheat, why, then, of course, I always got 

to go. 
For Dad said I was comp'ny, and I guess Dad ought 

to know; 
But anyway, he'd come into the house where Jane 

was doin' 
Up the work, and say, "It looks tome as if a storm 

was brewin', 
And so I'll take an early start, fer fear t he weather's 

bad." 
And then he'd say to me, "You want to go along 

with Dad?" 

Sometimes when corn was just a tasseling out he'd 

say to me, 
"This is the derndest country that a feller ever see; 
I thought we'd drive to church today and jest enjoy 

the view, 

19 



But this blamed corn has grown so high we won't 

be able to. 
You'll always £nd it so, though why, I never could 

explain. 
Some feller's got to suffer for some other feller's 

gain." 
And so he'd go on talking; better times I've never had 
Than driving long to church or town, and listening 

to Dad. 

When in the after years one loved me more than all, 

he said, 
I went to Dad and told him I would like to marry 

Fred. 
He didn't say a word until he'd walked the kitchen floor 
For half an hour; then in a quiet, awful tone he swore. 
And said he'd rather bury me than have me marry Fred, 
And I would £nd my home with Dad a better one, 

he said. 
And so I told Fred, though my heart was hurting 

pretty bad. 
That I thought I'd be as happy if I went along with 

Dad. 

20 



And m the days that followed, why, I learned that 

Dad was right, 
For I was just as happy, and my heart was just as light 
As it had ever been when some one else had loved 

me too: 
The days just danced into my life and then took 

wings and flew, 
Until there came a time, when apple trees were all 

a-blow. 
That the doctor shook his head and said that Dad 

was very low, 
I thought my heart would break for he'd die, and if 

he had 
Why, Id have begged of God to let me go along 

with Dad. 

And, oh, I hope when one must go the other need 

not stay. 
For Dad would find it lonesome without me along 

the way: 
We'll have to stand up for each other, maybe, at the 

throne. 
For Dad has faults in English, and to many faults I 

own. 

21 



If at the gate, St. Peter says to Dad, ''I've heard 

you swear. 
You can't come here. Just turn around and hustle 

off down there!" 
He needn't waste his time to tell me I've not been 

so bad — 
If it's choice 'twixt Dad and heaven, why, I'll go 

along with Dad! 



22 



TO MY STAR. 

Fair star 

Gleam brightly on! 
Through hope and fear 
A friend is near: 
Art thou not one? 

So true 

There's none like thee! 
Art thou too far, 
O, tiny star, 
To answer me? 

Shine on! 

Thy point of light 
Is but a spark 
To pierce the dark 
Of this great night. 

Yet thou, 

Small twinkling sun, 
Hast served me well, 
23 



Let others tell 
Deeds I Kave done. 

When I 

O shining ball, 
Dids't blindly grope, 
Thou gav'st me hope; 
So claim it all! 



24 



MY LADY. 

AK, tKen you know Ker, you have seen 

My lady! 
My lady witK the fair sweet face; 
And did you marvel at the grace 
And haughtiness of such a queen. 
Charmed by her tender winning ways, 
And tones so quick at jest or praise? 

Have 1 forgotten how 1 chid 

My lady? 
Then knew I not the soul that lies 
Hidden behind those laughing eyes, 
Eyes that entreat, reproach, forbid. 
And 1 repent now that 1 £nd 
How wrong I was! How strangely blind! 

And am I willing, now, to tell 

My lady 
The scornful words I would forget? 
Perchance she has not heard them yet- 
Perchance her eyes no more will dwell 
With friendship's light on such a one. 
Oh, were the past unsaid— undone! 
25 



For full forgiveness I shall ask 

My lady, 
Leaving to Ker the generous tho't, 
Not to deal witK me as she ought, 
But to forgive — a sorry task! 
Oh, words, ye living, haunting things, 
Say, have ye angel's or demon's wings? 



26 



IN JUNE. 

OK, slender bougK tKat ligKtly sways 

In time to breezes playing. 
Say. Kave you not these summer days 
Grown jealous of her graceful ways 

When near you sKe's been straying? 

Oh, sweet-voiced bird that trills and sings, 

Have you a note of sadness. 
When her far sweeter voice outrings, 
And makes you lift your little wings 

In wonder at Ker gladness? 

Dear baby cloud, so happy there. 

O'er the pale blue just creeping, 
Oh, tell me, would you truly care 
To know that much more pure and (air 
A heart is in her keeping? 



27 



THE BEST ALLUS ARE ON TOP. 

You can alius hear folks grumblin' 

'Cause they never get their dues; 
Blowin' 'cause the other fellers 

Are a-gettin' what they choose, 
But there aint no use o' mournin' 

And you might much better stop, 
Fer with men, like store potatoes, 

The best alius are on top. 

When you're put in false positions. 

And abused by lies too strong. 
You don't have to stand and take it. 

Let em know that they are wrong. 
If folks want to kick, why, let 'em. 

But don't let em kick you out; 
Though I wouldn't give folks chances 

Fer to start a row about. 

There is room fer everybody, 

An' a place fer everyone. 
But you can't sit still and get there, 

There's some dimbm' to be done, 

28 



And when goin' up life's ladder 
Don't let go your hold and drop, 

Weaker ones can't pull you downward. 
The best alius are on top. 

If you can't have all, why, blame it! 

Just take all that you can get. 
And if some one else has better. 

Why, don't sit around and (ret; 
Just pitch right in and tell him 

You're a-goin' fer to win, 
And don't wait fer luck to start you; 

Roll your sleeves up and begin. 

This world never wastes its good things 

On the folks who like to rest. 
And the ones who want to alius 

Can have just the very best. 
Don't step out 'cause others crowd you. 

If you do you'll have to stop; 
If folks hit you, knock 'em over, 

The best alius are on top! 



29 



LOVFS BLINDNESS. 

He wrote a ditty to his love, 

And praised the fairness of her face, 
The sweetness of the tiny mouth. 

And every dear, bewitching grace; 
But most of all, midst deepest sighs, — 

Sad they could not be written down, — 
He raved about his sweetheart's eyes. 

Those dancing, glancing eyes of brown? 

Days passed, and soon a message came, 
"I like your verses, but must stay 

Your erring rhyming, for my eyes 

Are not a 'charming brown,' but gray!" 



30 



YESTERDAY. 

Oh, the burdens we found and those we left 

In the vanished Yesterday! 
How we wearied our souls with the constant fret 
Over cares and duties that must be met. 
Till life of brightness was quite bereft. 

In the far-off Yesterday. 

But our hearts were light when we hailed the sun, 

The morning of Yesterday 
With every promise of peace seemed fair. 
We drew in hope with each breath of air. 
The burdens were light and quickly done 

In the morning of Yesterday. 

Then a sharp reproof, unkind, unjust. 
Dimmed the light of Yesterday, 
But we whispered a little trustful prayer 
That our lips might be in the Father's care. 
And the quick retort was choked in the dust 
On the road of Yesterday. 

The songs of the birds we trilled aloud 
31 



As we went on our way; 
For all that is best in life we sought, 
And all that is dear seemed closer brought, 
There seemed not one dark, heavy cloud 

In the sky of Yesterday. 

But the wild storm broke, and the mad winds blew; 

The fierce rain dimmed the way. 
And the merry song on our lips was hushed. 
While the joy of the soul lay bruised and crushed. 
For a friend beloved had been untrue 

Ere the close of Yesterday! 



32 



A REPROACH. 

If you had loved me, dear. 
Would you have spoken m so sharp a tone? 
Now from my heart the dove of peace hath flown; 
I cannot think that you would so have done. 

If you had loved me, dear! 

If you had loved me, dear. 
You would have that one hasty wrong forgiven, 
Our bonds of love would still remain unriven. 
And earth, as in the past, would rival heaven, 

If you had loved me, dear. 

If you had loved me, dear. 
Your tender eyes would make your words complete. 
When I had begged the old-time vow so sweet; 
You would not, now, my coming coldly greet. 

If you had loved me, dear! 



33 



A HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 

A hundred years ago, my dear, 
The air was just as fresh and clear. 
As sweet-toned birds as now to hear, 

A hundred years ago. 
Oh, then the children were as dear. 
And just as naughty, too, I fear! 
But coats and gowns were strangely queer 

A hundred years ago. 

A hundred years ago today 

What do you think they liked to play, 

"Hide and go seek," or "Pull away?" 

And did they £shing go? 
Or did they willingly obey. 
When raindrops fell and skies were gray 
If indoors they were told to stay, 

A hundred years ago? 

A hundred years ago, 'tis true. 
Seems very far away to you. 
But sands of time are slipping through 
As our years come and go, 
34 



And soon beneath these skies of blue 
Dear children very much like you 
Will wonder what you used to do 
"A hundred years ago." 



35 



LIFE HATH CHARMS. 

I bless tKe short existence Kere 

With all the joy of f nding 
Each day some gladness new and dear. 

Some tie of friendship binding. 
Or some small hope (or coming years, 

A glint of bright to-be. 
Despite a few salt sorrow tears, 

Life holds a charm for me. 

Yet death, which brings the peaceful close 

To all of joy and fretting; 
Whose restful quieting repose 

Is but a long forgetting: 
Whose shadows are the gray of dawn 

The sun will cause to flee, 
Is dear, because of sorrows gone. 

Death holds a charm for me. 



36 



A VALENTINE. 

Brown-eyes, are you my vaientine? 

I love you, dear! 
TKe sun more brightly seems to shine, 
The night's less dark since you are mine 
Each touch of nature seems divine. 

Life's way is clear. 

And all because I've found you true, 

My brown-eyed lass! 
Why, now the skies are always blue, 
And heav'n itself has quite slipt through, 
And all because of you, of you. 

It came to pass! 



37 



A MOOD. 

Hast thou not learned the lesson yet? 'Tis this: 

When years have woven webs for history, 
And thou hast learned at last the wondrous bliss 

Of all the future-hidden mystery. 
Thou wilt have left no vacant useless space; 

The work that was not inished will be done 
By one made ready to obtain the place. 

When thy full years of work and joy are gone. 

There is no leaf among the forest trees. 

No wave whose heart-beats cease upon the shore. 
No vagary of any summer breeze, 

No blade of dead grass on the earth's brown floor. 
No passing cloud, no snatch of robin's song. 

Ay, not of Nature's world the smallest part, 
But is remembered; but is missed as long 

As thou. Hast thou not learned how small thou art? 



THE OLD WALK. 

Come, let us steal a few years from oM Time, 
He IS far too quick m his ways: 

But the sun is as bright and the meadows as (air, 

The flowers as generous to the air, 

As they were in the dear old days. 

'Tis so sweet and pleasant an afternoon 
We will take the old walk again. 

Along the road, and over the hill, 

Wandering on at our own sweet will 

'Till we reach the deep, cool glen. 

The little brook runs along 'neath the trees; 

The bitter-sweet bends o'er to see 
How pretty it is in the mirror near, 
Were we ever as vain as that, my dear, 

In the days that used to be? 

We have reached, at last, the pasture fence; 

They are almost worn away. 
The names that we cut so long ago. 
They were still quite deep and clear, you know. 

When we came here again one day. 
39 



The sun sinks low; we must hasten home 

With the dog-wood and bitter-sweet red. 
See, down in[the woods the river gleams 
Like silver, touched by the sun's last beams; 
The day is nearly dead. 

And Father Time will lay it away 

With|those of the long ago. 
We've been happy together this autumn day, 
Happy, we two, in the dear, old way. 

That only friends can know. 



40 



BETTER SO. 

(In Memory of Herbert Kay.) 

Oh, God, couldst Thou not make the burdens light, 

Or our weak strength sufficient for the task? 
Couldst Thou not teach us how to pray aright. 

Or grant the gifts Thy children, Father, ask? 
Dost Thou delight to bruise an aching heart 

And cause hard, bitter thoughts to rise and grow 
In hearts whose joyous beats come far apart? 

Oh, can it be that it is better so? 

Oh, Lord, why is the way so hard to see 

When we are now so blinded by our tears. 
Why must the burdens all too heavy be. 

And ever growing with the flight of years? 
Why didst Thou take the one who helped to give 

Each scene of life a brighter, warmer glow? 
Oh, will we learn, as coming years we live. 

That for his sake, and ours, 'twas better so? 

Are broken circles. Lord, what Thou wouldst choose 
Than friendship's strong and firmly linked chain? 
Was he, whose life had been most just, to lose 
41 



That one who broke Thy ev'ry law might gain? 
When time may cause the Judas to repent, 

And £nd the Cain in suppliance bent low. 
Wilt Thou forget all vengeance and relent? 

Must we believe that it is better so? 

Oh, Father, let us only understand! 

Quiet the heart throbs, dull the growing pain, 
Let us forget we may not clasp his hand. 

Or smile at his light-hearted words again. 
Now, death for us holds not the same strange fear; 

Oh, God, in our weak, simple way we know, 
Because the distant Heaven seems so near 

Now he is there, that it is better so! 



42 



CASTLES IN SPAIN. 

I have castles away in Spain, you know, 
Where the skies are oh! so blue, 
And the softest of breezes rise and blow 
Across the gardens where roses grow 

And gay little brooks wind through. 

Ah! In the old days oft I spent 

Quick passing hours there, 
But now I never can be content. 
For the charms of the scenes have all been spent, 

They are not now so fair. 

I would give my castles m Spain for this, 

I would barter them all away 
For the dreamy childhood I ever miss. 
For the joy of my mother's loving kiss. 

And the peace of a care-free day. 



43 



A PASSING CLOUD. 

The morning of my life broke gray, 

Portending but a dreary day: 

One thought alone there came to stay 

And give me cheer. 
One ray from out the dark clouds caught, 
With wild, sweet happiness 'twas fraught, 
And youth found it a hopeful thought, 

I loved you, dear! 

And now the skies' fast-falling tears 
Fill me with new and greater fears; 
How can I brave the coming years 

With you not near? 
But should I with the wild day fret? 
Perhaps 'twill brighter grow, and yet 
'Twould better be could I forget 

I love you, dear! 

At sunset, if the skies are bright. 
While earth lies smiling in its light, 
We'll gladly wait the coming night 
Without a fear. 
44 



Perhaps, when life is nearly done, 
With battles lost and battles won. 
Perhaps, at setting of the sun 
You'll love me, dear! 



45 



TO BLANCHE. 

Dear little maid, so soon to pass 
From your sweet girlish ways unto 

The dignity of woman's years, 

I'd breathe a little prayer (or you. 

That you may keep a trustful heart; 

That your grave questioning eyes may own 
No note of sorrow; that untruth 

To you may be a thing unknown. 

That you may live, — and love your life: 
That joy, content, and hope be yours; 

That you may £nd that blessed peace 
The love for Him who died assures. 

Then would I ask, O Father mine. 
Grant her the gifts for which I pray, 

But make me. Lord, as good and pure 
As this dear lassie is today! 



46 



DREAMS. 

Oh, the dreams that come at sunset 

And abide until the dawn! 
I forget the weary toiling 

From day's close till night is gone. 
When earth glides to meet the starlight 

They come softly to my soul. 
And to give them place, the sorrows 

From my wearied spirit roll. 

Oh, the dreams, not faint and flitting. 

But life, strength and peace for me, — 
Are they sent by watchful angels? 

Are they given, God, by Thee? 
For I could not lift the burdens. 

Had I not these heav'nly gleams, 
Claim, slaves of the world, your gainings. 

Naught can take from me my dreams. 



47 



A VALENTINE. 

What need Kave I to send you painted roses, 
Bordered with dainty colored silk and lace? 

For not the crimson of a flower that grows is 
So fair as the faint blushes on your face. 

And your pure brow would look as snow by ashes 
If the white lace were laid against your hair, 

And should you lift those pretty jealous lashes 
Your eyes would make the soft bright silk less fair. 

The song which lay behind the dainty cover 

Could not one half my heart thoughts tell quite 
true. 

And were I gifted as no other lover. 

Still I could write no song so sweet as you! 



48 



MY APRIL LADY. 

1 only know, oh! lady (air, 

That you are dear to me, 
And yet at times, I do declare. 

You're very queer to me: 
For oft you meet me with a frown, 

Then bid me not depart. 
To solve so sweet a mystery 

Is trying on my heart. 

Though I have wondered why and how 

You are so queer to me. 
Perhaps the reason 'tis that now 

You are so dear to me. 
I doubt, my April lady, you're 

As easy to explain 
As why the sunny skies of Spring 

Smile, frown, and smile again. 



49 



W ORDS. 

Think them unspoken, (or quick angry words 

Are not the sign of winter in the heart. 
But as some sudden gust of summer-time 

Grasps from the bough of its new life a part, 
And flings the tattered glossy green away 

Where none will look and wonder that they die 
So long before late Autumn's winds breathe cold, 

And to the South belated swallows fly; 
So comes the shadow of the summer storm 

Filling the foolish, coward heart with (ears. 
And then departing quickly as it comes, 

Leaves a glad calm to pay for all the tears. 



50 



TO JANET. 

If I might bring 

A bit of Spring 
A bunch of many a new born violet 
It would not be more sweet than thou, Janet, 

Of whom I sing. 

If I but knew 

Where roses grew 
In tints with which thy own fair cheeks might blend 
They'd bear the greeting that I seek to send 

My lady true. 

Were power mine 

This to divine — 
The secret of young Cupid's magic art, — 
I'd take thy own, and give thee, dear, my heart, 

Thy valentine. 



51 



SWEET ENGLISH ROSE. 

Sweet English rose, left here with. me 

To bring back dreams of happier^times. 
Left by a friend for thoughts of thee, 
And of a village by the sea. 
And my England, 
Dear old England, 
Fairest of all fair climes. 

Ah, thorns, sharp thorns! I should have known 

How brief a time when I forget 
The thorn-pricks of both life and flowers! 
Remembering the happy hours 
In old England, 
Dear old England, 
Where the roses blossom yet. 

All but one Rose, one sweet wild Rose, 

Who IS lying by the sea. 
Where the soft winds sigh above her 
As if they still miss and love her, 
And her England, 

52 



Dearold England, 
Where I never more will be. 

It IS crushed now, little wild rose. 
But more fragrant than before. 
Ere its death, like my Rose grieving, 
Would both heart and soul be leavmg 
In old England, 
Dear old England, 
With the one she loved still more. 

Wild Rose, wild Rose, long the years seem. 

Long since I left England's shore! 
Do you know, wild rose, there dying, 
I had given up all sighing 
For my England, 
Dear old England, 
Till YOU tore my heart once more? 



53 



THE SEA OF FATE. 

From out the grasping, cruel waves of fate 
There comes a cry of awful agony, 
And none to save: the waters soon will still 
That piteous wail for rescue from the sea. 
Oh, fate, so often calm and brightly fair, 
Thy gurgling laughter's but to still the cries 
Of the poor soul who sees thy smiling face. 
Soon learns to fear thee, struggles then — and dies! 



54 



THE WINDS. 

The North Wind raves in his tyranny, 

And madly shrieks as he flies by me; 

No tender smiles, but many a frown 

From the heavy clouds that he throws down: 

And I shiver as on life's way I go. 

Like the leafless trees, tossed to and (ro, 

^ While the North Wind shrieks till I know but fear. 

J The words so merciless I must hear: 
'•Life is a struggle: give up and die! 
No sorrows can trouble the dead who lie 
Within the shelter of those thick walls 
Which are safer by far than marble halls, — 
Give up! Give up!" is the North Wind's cry: 
"Give up the struggle! Give up, and die." 



55 



The East Wind moans as he creeps around. 
In search for rest where none is found; 
And so to me he comes and cries, 
*'The world is cold to all our sighs, 
All IS but sorrow; we moan today. 
Will weep tomorrow, and yesterday 
Was but a hideous dream come true, 
Tis a dreary life we are going through. 
What comfort is gained in art and song? 
In search (or right, and avoiding wrong? 
The world is gray, for the bright sunrise 
Was soon o'ershadowed before our eyes. 
And the dampening chill of the misty air 
Is the cast to be modelled and called Despair!' 



56 



But the West Wind, sturdy old friend is he, 
Shouts these brave words in his boist'rous glee. 
"Fight on! The world is a cowardly foe; 
We'll wm our battles wherever we go. 
Heed not the sorrow and wrong today, 
Come over the hills with me! Away 
Where life is bright: one glad sweet song, 
The days too short, and the pleasures long!" 
So rough is he that I fall at times 
As he hurries me on m his toilsome climbs. 
But we £ght our way through the world, until 
We have conquered the braggard Fate, and still 
The West Wind shouts in his merry glee, 
"On, on for another victory!" 



57 



Just then the South Wind sweet and slow 

Whispers so tenderly, "Do not go; 

For you have conquered enough; now rest 

And peace and gladness for you are best." 

And he gently speaks m accents low 

Of lands where all things lovely grow, 

While I dream on, as the South Wind dear, 

Smgs the melodies sweet which I long to hear. 

And tells of the castles across the sea. 

And the wonderful pleasures in store for me. 

Till I forget the wearisome past, 

The warfare and hopelessness over at last. 

Time on his journeyings quickly slips 

While the South Wind kisses my trembling lips. 



58 



THE ROBIN'S SONG. 

Oh, foolish robin, thinking that you sing 
A song of beauty new to this one Spring 
As on the tiny branch you sway and swing. 

A song of skies that pulse in veins of dew. 
Of fluffy clouds with sunshine drifting through 
To melt m yellow buttercups that grew 

As fair last year, when skies were just as bright. 
The sun as golden, and the clouds as white. 
And other robins sang with all their might. 

Know, too, another bird did come this way 
And resting there did sing that self same lay 
You think so new, a year ago today. 



59 



THE CYCLONE. 

The sun gold-covered town and £eld alike tKat day 
in June, 

And all the birds were silent lest they might not be 
m tune 

With Mother Nature's music as she crooned a lullaby. 

To the swaying of the cradle earth beneath a daz- 
zling sky. 

One looked above, then closed his eyes and reeled 

beneath the blue. 
And when the song was ended none of her children 

knew; 
And all that broke the stillness was a wind that seemed 

to know 
Just what to whisper to the corn that made it mad 

to grow. 

Slowly the heavy sun sank lower, lower in the sky. 
The breeze was only breathing now and then a little 

sigh. 
And then there came a breathless space, more hushed 

than all the day, 

60 



When awful stillness reigned and then as quickly 
fled away. 

A sudden gust of passion from the angry, jealous 

cloud, 
A moment when beneath its fury man and nature 

bowed. 
Then darkness, dread confusion, an awful threatening 

roar 
That changed to £endish exultation when its work 

was o'er. 

And when its rage had passed, its passion spent, what 

told the tale? 
The waste of homes, of thrift and toil, aye, more 

than all the wail 
That rose from lips of those made desolate by loved 

ones dead; 
Sad Rachels weeping for their children, and uncom- 

forted. 



61 



A SONG. 

OK! we were friends togetKer, 

Each found the other true, 
With neither caring whether 

The skies were gray or blue; 
She was my prairie princess, 

With wild, sweet, wilful ways; 
She ruled, she led, she loved me 

Through all those happy days. 

Oh! we were friends together. 

Now 'neath the changing skies 
Through fair and stormy weather. 

My prairie princess lies, 
Where no fond kiss can wake her. 

No whisper make her stir; 
And all my peace and gladness 

I buried there with her. 



62 



SPRING'S UPON US. 

The trees and flowers are budding early. 
And bird notes sound from woodlands clearly, 
The heart of winter's broken nearly; 
Spring's upon us. 

And while the streets are yet quite slushy 
The housewife starts with pail and brush the 
Cleaning, while cold milk and mush, she 
Springs upon us! 

When cleaning's done we're meek and lowly. 
Yet greet one man with words unholy 
When the past winter's bill for coal he 
Springs upon us. 

And owing to this lack of mercies 
The poet is received with curses 
When he would tell us in his verses 
Spring's upon us! 



63 



Copyrighted, 1900, by the author. 



^107 






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